So many ways that title could have gone. But let's start with this. Yesterday morning I read about a new sporting activity in The New York Times called piloxing. My interest was instantly piqued; not because I wanted to start to ‘pilox’ (which sounds like a cross between a pillage, a pillow fight and a detox – which sounds like a completely riveting activity, to be honest) but because I was in the thrall of yet another hilarious hybrid sport.
Yogalates, Boxercise, Broga (seriously? Is men doing yoga worthy of it’s own moniker?) – the ridiculous names continue, with ‘piloxing’ referring to a combination of pilates, boxing and (jazz influenced) dancing. I’d pay good money to see a boxer whip out a twinkly pair of jazz hands instead of a right hook, but hey that’s just me. None of these sports are any that I’ve tried myself, mind. I did thoroughly enjoy zumba, but that’s not a hybrid sport and therefore irrelevant to this post goddamit.
![]()
I’m not a great exerciser by nature; namely because exercising in London is SO EXPENSIVE. And I can’t run because I have trapped nerves in my bum. True story. I used to love running but I had to stop as my arse hurt so much. I thought it just hurt when I ran because I had a big bottom (proportionately speaking, it is considerably larger than the rest of my vital stats) and it therefore had to operate independently from my body, like a horsebox attached to the main vehicle – but I was then told that it was actually bad for my back and sadly had to stop.
So I write this from a position of blubbery non-smuggery (who can be smug about a body that’s not been boxercising?) but nonetheless, confusion. Because I fear that sport has become the new fashion industry. Creating hybrid jargon that is temptingly easy to ridicule. I have great issue with many modern fashion terms, which make me want to smother myself to death with my own bosoms. For example, ‘coatigan’, 'jeggings' and ‘skort’. Sometimes, in the interest of sartorial accuracy and in my job as a fashion journalist, I am forced to use such words and sit there with tears silently trammeling down my face in shame.
Yogalates, Boxercise, Broga (seriously? Is men doing yoga worthy of it’s own moniker?) – the ridiculous names continue, with ‘piloxing’ referring to a combination of pilates, boxing and (jazz influenced) dancing. I’d pay good money to see a boxer whip out a twinkly pair of jazz hands instead of a right hook, but hey that’s just me. None of these sports are any that I’ve tried myself, mind. I did thoroughly enjoy zumba, but that’s not a hybrid sport and therefore irrelevant to this post goddamit.
I’m not a great exerciser by nature; namely because exercising in London is SO EXPENSIVE. And I can’t run because I have trapped nerves in my bum. True story. I used to love running but I had to stop as my arse hurt so much. I thought it just hurt when I ran because I had a big bottom (proportionately speaking, it is considerably larger than the rest of my vital stats) and it therefore had to operate independently from my body, like a horsebox attached to the main vehicle – but I was then told that it was actually bad for my back and sadly had to stop.
So I write this from a position of blubbery non-smuggery (who can be smug about a body that’s not been boxercising?) but nonetheless, confusion. Because I fear that sport has become the new fashion industry. Creating hybrid jargon that is temptingly easy to ridicule. I have great issue with many modern fashion terms, which make me want to smother myself to death with my own bosoms. For example, ‘coatigan’, 'jeggings' and ‘skort’. Sometimes, in the interest of sartorial accuracy and in my job as a fashion journalist, I am forced to use such words and sit there with tears silently trammeling down my face in shame.
I exaggerate, but only slightly. Because we are living in a world where word invention is a global hobby. No sooner had ‘selfie’ wung it’s sticky little narcissistic way into the OED than everyone was gassing about ‘twosies’ (self-explanatory). The hybrid word reduces perfectly legitimate ‘stuffs’ to lols. For example, an activity that combines boxing, pilates and jazz sounds perfectly revolutionary. If I were to indulge, then I can imagine that it could hone me into the human equivalent of a kale juice in no time. It is not the science that I resent. It is the need to name everything. It’s unique to the English language, too; in many countries, any one of our zippy little hybrid words would just be translated by description.
I love the zeitgeist. I live for the zeitgeist! I’ll write about it, read about it and if my bottom allows, even try it out. But please, everyone, let’s give the hybrids a rest. Comprunderstand?
I love the zeitgeist. I live for the zeitgeist! I’ll write about it, read about it and if my bottom allows, even try it out. But please, everyone, let’s give the hybrids a rest. Comprunderstand?